


Catch Me

by LipstickAndWhiskey (CopperMarigolds)



Series: SPN AU & Trope Bingo [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Familial Angst, Fluff, Student!Dean, college!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-14
Updated: 2018-01-14
Packaged: 2019-03-04 20:30:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,093
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13372497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CopperMarigolds/pseuds/LipstickAndWhiskey
Summary: Some days, you’ve just had enough. Those are the days that turn into a sleepover at your best friend’s place.





	Catch Me

**Author's Note:**

> Beta - @imagineteamfreewill on tumblr  
> Written for @spnaubingo  
> Square Filled - Student!Dean  
>  _A/N - This is an au College!Dean. This one… this one got away from me, and reflects a lot of very real emotions I have with my own dad. So it’s sort of a theraputic exercise, writing this all down and out. Hopefully the fluff after the angst is enough to make up for the feels dump. Prompt at the end of the fic to avoid spoilers!_

“Hey,” Dean says softly as you shuffle into the small living room of his flat, “I see the borrowed clothes fit well enough.” He’s spread out on the couch, phone in his hand, presumably searching Netflix for something decent for the two of you to watch.

You grin a little and tug on the faded black AC/DC shirt, “Yeah. The spare shorts fit pretty nice too. I may just have to steal them, along with the shirt.”

He chuckles and pats the spot next to him on the couch. “C'mon, tell me what’s eating you and we’ll have our sleepover night like usual.”

He’d known something was up as soon as you showed up earlier at his door. It wasn’t hard for him to suspect something, not with the look that you were sure was in your eyes. You’d been best friends for three years now, and he knew you well enough to know when something wasn’t right. He always knew.  _Blast it._

You flop down on his old worn couch and sigh. “Dean, I don’t think I really wanna talk about it.”

“Yeah, I know- but I know that once you get it outta your system, you always feel better. You know you can tell me anything, no judgement.” He pats your shoulder, and you know. He’s the one person in your life that has never let you down. He’s your rock, and you know you could always trust him with anything. He’s your best friend.  _You can tell him._

“It’s just- It’s my dad again,” you huff. He hums in acknowledgment, though lets you continue uninterrupted. He knew you didn’t get along well with your father, much like him, though you never told him much else beyond that. “Today it was the same old song and dance. He says something and it’s just- he doesn’t let me finish what I want to say before interrupting, which is  _so rich_ because he’s always saying how people interrupting him is his pet peeve. And so I never get to say how I really feel, because whatever I feel is discounted because  _‘I’m just a kid’_ or _'I’m his daughter’_ , so my opinion is less than his. Every conversation is left with me feeling like he’s just telling me how frustrated he is with me, and I never get to say how I really feel, because I’m interrupted!”

He takes your hand in his, rubbing his thumb soothingly back and forth over the back of your hand. “I’m just so tired of feeling like whatever I do isn’t enough, Dean. I’m tired of getting straight A’s and being picked on for whatever he decides isn’t enough.” His hand tightens around yours, and you can see fire in his eyes. “I can’t remember the last time he’s said that he was proud of me. Hell, I can’t remember the last time he’s said he  _loved_ me, Dean.” You’re crying, you realize as the tears streak down your hot cheeks. The tracks don’t stay there long though, because Dean’s already wiping them away and pulling you into his chest.

It’s a strange sensation, letting yourself fall and actually being caught. There were too many moments in your life where you were left to suffer alone, to hold your burdens in silence. To be caught- to be held in arms stronger than your own, and more than willing to help you stand tall is more than your heart can bear. You shudder, and blubber into his henley, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his shirt as you hold onto him.

He shushes you, rubbing a firm hand over your back. You sit awkwardly scrunched to his chest, your legs bumping his until he scoops you in closer, a strong arm around your waist and your legs now comfortably across his lap. He pushes your hair back, tucking whatever he can behind your ear before pressing a kiss to your forehead and letting his lips linger. His mouth brushes your skin as he speaks, “Hey, just breathe babe, take deep breaths.”

You nod, trying to breathe as normally as you can despite the hiccuping gulps of air you take. His hand helps- long, heavy strokes mimicking his own breathing that you can feel against your chest. It’s like a rolling tide, the easy back-and-forth enough to focus on as you retreat from the cliffs of insanity.

“Babe, I don’t care what he thinks. He can go shove his impossible standards up his ass. But me- I think you’re perfect. You’re smart, talented, funny, and more. You’re perfect the way you are, and if he can’t see that, then it’s his fault for not having the eyes to see it.”

“Dean,” you whisper, searching for the right thing to say, though you can only draw a blank.

“My dad is,” he laughs humorlessly, “he is a dick. Just like yours. He’s manipulative, abusive, both mentally and physically, and self-serving. When our mom died, he put his grief onto Sam and I. It was always about his loss, his pain. Never ours. He was the boss, the marine. He raised us like soldiers, not sons. He’s the reason I left for school. The reason I wanted Sam to go to Harvard and me to make something of myself.”

“Dean, you never told me this before.”

“Yeah, well I figure you showed me yours, I show you mine.” He’s quiet for a moment, his eyes searching your own. “You’re everything to me, you know. I don’t think I’d still be in college if it weren’t for you pushing and helping me.”

“I just know what it’s like- to not get the validation and the encouragement you wish you got,” you reply.

There’s a sadness in his eyes that you feel to your core- it’s understanding. The connection you share goes deeper than you’d ever imagined, and you understand why you two had always been so perfect together- like two pieces of a puzzle.

“I always did wonder why we got along so well so quickly,” Dean murmurs. “I always chalked it up to our mutual interest in old westerns.”

You laugh and push at his chest, “Speaking of which, you’ll never get me to watch another Clint Eastwood movie featuring a monkey ever again, Dean.”

“Hey! Those are classics! And his name is  _Clyde_!” His grin is cheesy and wide, as if pleased to have pulled a laugh from you. “Besides, I sat through all five seasons of you swooning over  _The Rifleman_!”

“Hey! Chuck Connors is a  _handsome_ man.”

“What, more than me?”

You push yourself up from his lap, his hands skimming your sides until you’re completely out of reach. “I’m not gonna answer that. Your head will get too big, Winchester.” He smiles, wide and cheesy, pleased enough at your answer.

“Alright, well we have all night just me and you. Sam’s got his hot date with Jess and I bought you your favorite.”

You gasp, “No, you didn’t!”

He stands, grinning, and holds up his phone for you to see. “Yup, I did. You, me, and a deep dish pizza delivered from your favorite place. See?” He points to the small screen, “The little icon says it’s in the oven right now!”

“Oh, Dean,” you launch yourself at him, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him briefly before hugging him as tight as you can. You almost don’t catch it, but the fact that he’s hardly breathing as you hug him makes it all click into place.  _You’d kissed him. On the lips._

You pull away, a little horrified that you’d overstepped the boundaries of your friendship. He gapes at you, but as you’re about to apologize profusely, he grins. He dives for your lips and grabs you tight by the waist, pulling you into him like he’s afraid to let go. Kissing him is like coming home, and you can’t quite picture your life before only moments ago- you can’t imagine not having kissed him, nor him kissing you. It’s familiar and safe, and it’s got you leaning into him like you can’t get close enough.

You’re not sure who pulls away from who, but you’re smiling at each other like frickin’  _idiots_. He brushes his thumb over your lower lip, his eyes crinkling around the edges and the green of his irises sparkling. “We should have done that a long time ago,” he says, his voice low and gravely.

You hum and look up at him from under your lashes. The look in his eyes is  _so damn soft_ , so  _sweet_ that you can’t help but peck his lips again, watching as his eyes flutter open and shut. His ears are tipped pink and you can’t help but just love him, just marvel at how wonderful and beautiful he is, inside and out. The butterflies in your chest seem to take flight at the sight of his smile, and you’re stuck in the moment forever.

That is, until the doorbell rings.

He chuckles at the way you startle, and presses another quick kiss to your lips before stepping away. “I’ll get the pizza, and you pick what you want to watch.”

* * *

He fell asleep. You don’t mind, if you’re honest. He’s got his feet propped up on the coffee table, his arm around you and his head tilted back and facing you. He looks so peaceful there, soft snores only audible because he holds you so close. The movie’s been over for, what? Maybe a few minutes, maybe more. And yet, you can’t help but just look at him, each freckle and smile line like you’re seeing him for the first time. It’s surprising, the small details of him that you’d never noticed before. He’s got a small freckle on his bottom lip, and a small scar that’s starting to crease his skin right on his chin. You can’t help but reach out and touch it, smoothing over the silvery line with your thumb.

Dean stirs finally, as if your touch was enough to pull him from whatever dream he’d had. His lashes flutter and he’s looking at you from under them, with a soft smile pulling crooked over his teeth. It’s a shy, secret smile only for you, and you don’t hesitate to kiss it and keep it for yourself.

“MMm, I fell asleep, huh?”

You huff a laugh, “You only missed the ending. It wasn’t that good anyway.”

He doesn’t say anything else- just looks at you like he’s trying to figure something out.

“What?”

“Huh?”

“What is it?”

He cups the side of your face, and smiles as you lean into his touch. “ ’m just-” he chuckles low in his chest, “just amazed how blind I was.”

“Dean, I’ve seen you check out my ass before- don’t tell me you’re blind,” you sass. He just smiles even larger.

“I mean…  _you know what I mean!_  I just kinda made you off-limits in my brain. Because you were my friend first, I thought if I did anything, I’d screw it all up. I’d lose my best friend.”

“Well, you’re stuck with me. I’ve already seen you at your lowest, and you’ve seen me at mine. I didn’t run then, and I’m not running now.” You peck his lips, once again amazed that you’re  _allowed_ to- anytime you want. “And if it’s alright with you, I’d like to go to bed now.”

“Alright, alright.” He scoops you up into his arms swiftly, making you squeal.

“Dean!” you scold.

“What?” he cheeses at you, “You said you wanted to go to bed!”

You pout, just a little sour that he’d managed to startle you like that, but you keep quiet because he’s carrying you into his room and you’re not about to admit how much you like him holding you like this. He plops you onto the bed with a small bounce, and disappears to turn off the rest of the lights before reappearing only moments later, curiously out of breath.

“Hey, you okay?” you ask as you watch him climb in next to you.

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“I just didn’t know you could get winded from turning the lights off.”

You swear you see red tip his ears as he avoids eye contact.

“Dean…”

“I may have, uh… rushed so I wouldn’t be gone long.”

Your heart warms over and you scoot closer to him under his dark blue sheets. “You’re too cute, ya know?”

“Shut up.”

“So cute.” He glares at you. “The cutest.”

His lips on yours shut you up.

**Author's Note:**

> _Prompt: We’ve had this tradition as besties to have a sleepover once a year but this year….it feels different…were your pajamas always this cute??…did I always have butterflies???_
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> Be sure to check me out on tumblr at [lipstickandwhiskey](https://lipstickandwhiskey.tumblr.com) too!


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